Thursday, October 25, 14:01 CDT
Tuesday, I clawed my way out of bed two minutes after my first class is supposed to start, and stumbled across campus.
At noon, I ate bad food in the cafeteria, meandered to the Buick, and drove home.
My room at home, which I suspect I have never described here, is not a terribly impressive place. Four walls with a lot of scribbling on a badly aging textured paint job. A couple of posters and a single tiny oil painting. Blue miniblinds, white carpet, bed, drafting table, bookshelves. Dust. I haven't done much more than sleep there a couple times a week for quite a while. It and the walk in closet are a repository for all the weird, varied, and utterly mundane junk I've ever collected - books, magazines, paper, matchbooks, coins, marbles, candles, small rubber balls, chess boards, books, and distinctively shaped rocks. A month or three ago, one of my sisters decided to move the contents of her closet to my floor.
So, I thought, you got a few hours. Clean this up.
There are times when a sense of proportion would be really, really helpful.
Some time after 5, I showered off most of the dust, ate some turkey pot pie, and we (CarolAnn & I) headed for Sioux City. Found the newly resurrected Orpheum Theatre after no more than ten minutes of semirandomly cruising one way streets downtown.
The Orpheum - one of those expensive, perpetually debated civic projects that somehow managed to see completion - is nice. Also, it's a venue that might attract actual artists - something this area has been pretty sorely lacking.
We wandered around for a while, looking at stuff and deciding the pattern on the carpet was sort of dizzying and claustrophobic. Eventually, we found our way to the nosebleed section and our seats. We waited for a while. I got up and wandered around some more, and about two seconds before I got back to my seat they cranked up the Copland (why Copland? Good music, but...) and killed the lights, and Dylan and his band came out.
It was good. I think I recognized four songs, max, and there were
40-somethings sitting next to me handling their beer badly and shouting
play old stuff in that tone of voice unique to assholes at public
events, but it was good. Even given that I think maybe concerts are far better
standing in a screaming crowd than sitting in a comfortable seat.
They ended with maybe the best take on
Blowin' in the Wind I've
heard, which only seems right.
By the time we made it back to the car and started home, the wind had already started in. And now it's really, seriously cold out for the first time this fall, and yesterday they were talking about serious snow in the Dakotas. Winter is about to set upon us and sink her teeth in deep.